Chiaroscuro
by ImaNukeYourFace
Summary: A dark night, in a city that knows how to keep its secrets. But one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions. His name? Hikigaya Hachiman. Private Eye. (Film noir-style AU)
1. Chapter 1

**Turn on the smooth jazz, ladies and gents.**

 **This tale is not in color.**

 **But nothing is ever simply black or white.**

Chiaroscuro

 _noun_

 _The contrast between dark and light, shadows and brightness, and all the shades in between._

.

It was a rainy evening in the city of Chiba. The gray, overcast sky pattered rain down on the sidewalks, making them glisten in the evening streetlight. The black limousine splashed as it pulled up to the curb, and her black high heels glimmered with water as the woman stepped out of the back door. Umbrella-less, she casually strode through the rain and entered through the front door of the office building with undeniable purpose.

She entered and exited the elevator alone, a solitary figure in the darkened office building hallways. Glancing at name inscribed on the pale glass door, she made sure that she had found the guy she was looking for. She had. Now, this was going to get interesting, she thought, licking her lips as she effortlessly lit a cigarette. And then she creaked the door open.

The office was dimly lit, with rainy evening light slipping through the partially closed blinds of the single window and the tiny desk lamp casting a barely noticeable glow. The sole occupant of the room relaxed behind the desk with his feet resting up on it. A hazy cloud of smoke wisped above his head, but his face was invisible behind a large newspaper that he held. The woman spoke.

"Hellllllllo~..." She began coquettishly. "You must be the mister detective that works here."

"...There are some who'd call me that," he replied, slow and even.

"Hey, hey, so I could use a bit of help with somethin'... do you think you could give me a hand? Whaddaya say, mister detective? Hmm?" She asked, approaching the desk with measured strides like a boa constrictor slowly looping around its prey, smoke trailing behind her like the snake's tail.

"Let's hear your problem first, miss," the man said from behind the newspaper. He reached up and slid the cigar from the corner of his mouth, breathing out a plume of smoke to the side. "Then I'll see what I can do."

She perched slyly on the edge of his desk, all curves poured into her dark green dress. "Well you see, mister, I'm a bit worried about my cute little sister. She recently became the head of our family's company, and it's a big job. So for a caring older sister like me, of course I'm a little concerned about her. Although," she smirked, lowering her voice confidentially as she leaned across the desk, "she'd be too proud to admit ever needing any help."

Behind his newspaper, the man sat unflinchingly. "Oh really. So what's your sister's name?"

"Yukino. Yukinoshita Yukino, mister detective," the woman said with a toothy smile, and blew a cloud of smoke which rolled like waves against the man's paper.

"That so, huh. Okay then, miss Yukinoshita Haruno, I accept your request." He paused to take a long, thoughtful drag on his cigar. "But stop calling me 'mister detective.'"

"What would you like me to call you, then?" Haruno leaned in inquisitively.

The man snapped down the top half of the newspaper, revealing a mess of black hair, a handsome but weary face, and a poignant pair of dead-fish eyes. "The name's Hachiman. Hikigaya Hachiman. Private eye."

.

The black limousine splashed through the night as Haruno explained her request to me. Lounging languidly like a lioness on the bench across from me, she blew smoke from her cigarette as she told me how Yukino had been selected as head of the Yukinoshita family company about two months prior. Of course, I had already known this, like most other citizens of Chiba. After all, the Yukinoshita family and company were well-known and powerful influences in both politics and the economy.

"But poor little Yukino, her new job's been pretty hard on her," Haruno purred, putting on a sympathetic face. "She's always staying up late, working out the kinks and the details. I tried to help her out, but she always refuses me," she pouted with a playful expression. "And I just wanna know why!"

I looked at her. Stunning beauty? Check. Flirtatious manner? Check. Rich? Powerful? Check and check. At first glance, she just appeared to be an attractive and successful young woman. And yet, I couldn't help but be suspicious. That seductive, facetious persona that Haruno projected, it just felt off. It was too perfect. Too convenient. From the time she had waltzed into my office like a tiger into a Burmese orphanage, I didn't know what to make of her. Except for one thing: that sure was an impressive facade she was putting up. She was the kind of woman who knew exactly how people perceived her, and molded her entire outward appearance around that. Like a beautiful dark blue northern lake that looked picturesque on the surface, yet hid crushing depths and freezing waters. Or perhaps a large, intricate painting, behind which lay trapped a dark secret passageway. She was certainly the mysterious type.

"...your sister, she might just be trying to get adjusted to her new job. Responsibilities, you know," I mused.

"Well, you can figure out more when we get there. I'll be introducing you as an additional legal advisor, so that's your cover story. But your main objective," she said with a wink, "is to find out why little Yukino's keeping to herself so much!" She thought for a moment. "You don't actually know anything about legal advice, though, do you?"

"Well, actually, I might know a thing or two." I paused. "If necessary."

Haruno's face flickered for a moment, before morphing into an expression of surprise, as she puffed smoke out her pursed lips. "Hmm, you didn't look like the lawyerly type…"

I leaned back on the limo bench, hands behind my head. "Looks can be deceiving," I muttered with an ironic half-smile. "But I'm no lawyer. Bunch of stuck-up namby-pamby blatherskites."

Haruno stifled a giggle, and I shivered involuntarily. "Fufu… You are interesting. Looking forward to working with you, mister Hikigaya."

I closed my eyes and wished for a MAX coffee. "Likewise."

.

The limo had pulled up to the most well-known skyscraper in downtown Chiba, the towering black building that housed the main central offices of Yukinoshita incorporated. Although the elevator ride to the top was long, the wait for a meeting with the huge company's head was so short I barely had time to light up a cigar before Haruno beckoned me to follow her into the main office.

The door to the room was relatively unadorned, with simple brass letters spelling out "Yukinoshita Yukino, CEO." Haruno didn't even bother knocking, and simply barged straight inside with a cry of "Yukino-chaaaaaan~!" I sighed and took a long, slow drag on my cigar. At the very least, this was going to be irritating. I reluctantly pushed open the door and went inside the office.

Whatever I may have been expecting from a CEO's office, the reality came as a slight surprise. One could definitely see the trappings of an average business office in the background: a large desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, filing cabinets and stacks of paperwork. But the part that was most striking was the sheer quantity of books in the office. Bookcases sat in front of the windows and lined the walls. Books were piled on side tables and stacked on the floor. Gee, I wonder if miss Yukinoshita likes to read, I thought sarcastically.

"Nee-san…" Ah, the woman herself. As she stood up from her desk, I immediately recognized her from the various news programs that had covered her appointment as the company's new CEO months earlier. Long black hair, steely blue eyes, modest chest, serious expression. A cool, collected businesswoman befitting of the Yukinoshita name. And yet, after that initial storm of press coverage, she had yet to appear on the news even once more, and so she was widely regarded as the so-called invisible CEO. "Why are you here, nee-san?"

"Is it wrong for me to be worried about my cute little sister?" Haruno asked playfully, her eyes fixed on Yukino as she advanced toward her.

"And yet this has to be the first time in at least a month that you've bothered to actually come into my office," the younger sister replied, surreptitiously backing away from Haruno.

Abruptly, she turned around and skipped back over to where I was standing. "I'm actually here to introduce an additional legal consultant I've hired to help you out with your work!" Yukino glared at her, but Haruno simply responded with a "Tee-hee!" expression.

"Evening. The name's Hachiman, Hikigaya Hachiman." I doffed my hat slightly. "I'll be assisting you where I can. I assure you, I won't be much of a bother."

As I spoke, Yukino Yukinoshita turned her piercing gaze from her sister to myself...I could almost feel my body temperature lowering the longer she glared at me. If there was ever a gadget that functioned inversely to a heat lamp, it would be her eyes, I thought wryly.

"Nee-san, I have no idea why you took it upon yourself to do this completely unnecessary task, but rest assured that I have absolutely no need of any additional legal consultation assistance. And I highly doubt that this man could offer me any help anyway. Rather, his eyes make me feel as if I might be in danger…"

"Hey now. Do you always insult people when you first meet them? Because that's not going to win you a lot of friends."

"Excuse me. I don't believe I was talking to you, I was talking to my sister. And furthermore, you're the one making unfounded accusations here."

"But do you actually have friends though?"

"Well, what would you classify as a friend? What qualifies one to be considered as such?"

"Stop right there, I've heard enough. That kind of talk only comes from people who have no friends."

Haruno laughed suddenly, interrupting our debate. "See, Yukino-chan, you're getting along already." In what universe did this qualify as "getting along?" I wondered. "And I'm sure you'll find mister Hikigaya's services most helpful. Well, that's all for now! Ta-ta, Yukino-chan!" And with the abruptness that I had come to associate with her, Haruno whirled out of the office like a tornado.

Yukinoshita rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "She's always like that, doing whatever she wants. And she always gets her way, too."

I turned and looked out one of the office's large windows, gazing over the lights of Chiba. "She's certainly an impressive woman."

"That's what everybody says. Good looks, smart, rich, powerful…" Yukino sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why…"

"Hmph. That doesn't sound much different to you. What're you trying to do, indirectly compliment yourself?" I smirked. "No, the impressive part about her is how she holds it all together. That unbreachable shell of a personality." I paused to take a slow whiff of my cigar. "She's hiding so much, and yet it seems like she's being completely open and straightforward. That facade she's got… it's pretty effective at concealing her true self."

Yukino looked at me in surprise, then her face shifted into a slight half smile. "Perhaps those dead-fish eyes of yours aren't completely unobservant."

"I'm not completely incompetent, you know. Your expectations were far too low to begin with."

"Hmph. Then let's see if you can match up to those expectations. You should know how to work financial balancing, as a legal advisor, right?" She gave me a chilly glare.

"I believe that's what I'm here for," I said, a bit apprehensive.

"Good." She picked up a huge stack of papers and slammed them on her desk in front of me. "Then go sort through this, mister advisor."

I looked at the mountain of papers in front of me, then up at the cold gaze of the younger Yukinoshita, then back down at the papers. As I thought, I'm really gonna need a MAX coffee…

.

I had never been exceptionally good with math. For some reason, the precise calculations of numbers and digits had never come naturally to me. Perhaps it was because of my confusion at how a completely human-created system managed to accurately signify reality. Perhaps it was the sameness of all the numbers-their impartial lacking of individuality that made them hard to distinguish or assign rules to. Whatever the case may have been, my math skills were undeniably on the weak side. And I knew that.

But I had not been completely honest with Haruno, back in the limousine. Nor had I been completely forthright with miss Yukino. The truth was, I had a lot of experiences with legal matters involving large businesses in the past. It was all under the radar of course, and I thought I had put all those times behind me. But corruption never quite goes away, it seemed. And I was soon faced with the probable cause of why the young Yukinoshita CEO was encountering problems running her company.

The documents that she had given me were mostly financial registers about transactions between the main company and its numerous subsidiaries, smaller businesses that were owned by the Yukinoshita corporation. When I started noticing discrepancies in some of the ledgers, I figured at first that I had just bungled up the math. But after checking and rechecking, I realized that it wasn't me that had messed up the finances.

I knocked on the door to the main office once again.

"Who is it?"

"Me."

"Oh… mister Hikigaeru, was it?" Frog? No, that's not actually my name…

"Are you trying to be insulting?"

"Just come in."

I entered the office, the thin wisp of smoke from my cigar trailing behind me. The young executive sat at her desk, immersed in stacks of documents and ledgers twice the height of the pile she had given me. She was working furiously with a red pen, and barely bothered to glance up to acknowledge my entrance.

"So, did you do the work that I assigned you? I should hope you would be capable of at least that much. After all, hiring you was one of the few things my sister's bothered to do to meddle with me in a long time."

"Not like you go out of your way to involve yourself with her either, evidently," I commented offhandedly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Never mind. Anyway, I think I found something that might interest you." I showed her the collection of various financial reports pertaining to a collection of certain subsidiary companies. She looked over them a couple of times, confusion evident on her face.

"I'm not seeing anything particularly interesting."

"Look closer. See the financial report for three months ago with this subsidiary's balance? If you cross-reference it with these other companies' ledgers and their stated profits, you'll find that there's a discrepancy when you compare it to their balance two months later. Basically, it doesn't add up. You've got money missing here."

"So what you're saying is…"

"Either somebody's screwing up their financial ledger, or they're stealing from you."

Yukino Yukinoshita remained with her head down, looking at the documents on her desk. But her hand, resting on top of the papers, quietly curled itself into a fist. She spoke softly and evenly, her voice livid with silent fury.

"It seems that some punishment is in order for whoever did this. Thank you for your assistance in pointing this out to me, and I assure you I will not just let this slip by. I will hunt down whoev-"

"Hold on just a second."

She stopped her rant abruptly and looked up at me in irritated confusion. "What?"

"Going about this with a heavy-handed approach is liable to allow the criminals to slip away as soon as they get wind that they've been discovered. Instead… I propose that you let me deal with it."

Miss Yukino quirked an eyebrow. "And what are _you_ going to do?"

"Don't worry. This is my job, after all. And I've got a plan. All I need to know is the location of this company's CEO's office," I said, pointing.

"What? But that's not even the company who's been siphoning money."

"That's how it looks, anyway." I puffed a small cloud of smoke as I shrugged on my trench coat and pulled down my hat, turning to leave. "Just tell me where their office is."

Yukino closed her mouth, which had been hanging open in surprise, and quickly moved into action. "They're located in a nearby office building. Here's their address," she said as she handed me a small business card across the desk. I tucked it into my pocket, then strode across the room to the exit. As I turned the knob to leave, I glanced sideways over the high collar of my coat at the beautiful yet tired young woman, obscured behind the piles of responsibility before her.

"I'll be back."

And so I left.

.

 **To be continued.**

 **...**

 **...argh, can't resist the author's note. Shame to my famiry.**

 **Greetings guys, ImaNuke here, with something resembling a full-length story. Originally, I planned this to be a really long oneshot or twoshot in my other story "Essais," but then I decided it was going to be long enough and different enough to warrant its own story. Plus I want a cool bit of film noir-style cover art. *wishes that I could draw* *cries a little***

 **So like I said, this is basically a "film noir" AU. If you don't know what film noir is, think of mid-20th century American crime dramas. Things like "The Maltese Falcon," "Out of the Past," "Double Indemnity," and "The Big Sleep." There are numerous explanations of film noir on the interwebs too.**

 **By the way, the story's explanation blurb is a reference to the "Guy Noir, Private Eye" program from NPR (National public radio) in the US.**

 **Also, the story legitimately reads better with some Miles Davis or John Coltrane in the background (to set the mood (but more to distract you from the shitty writing)). "Blue in Green" and "Stardust" are classic choices.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading as always and cya next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

The rain had let up as I left the Yukinoshita building and walked along the wet sidewalk. Now, the low layer of clouds simply covered the sky like an oppressive tomb lid, neither raining not dispersing. The darkness of the street was intermittently punctuated by the flash of headlights and the splash of wheels. These hours, with the world enveloped in the silent mumble of the night, I always felt relaxed. But tonight, something was off. I felt uneasy. I felt… watched. But, checking behind me in one of the street-corner mirrors, I couldn't see anyone tailing me. I was as alone as a fishbowl in the Sahara.

The lobby was nearly empty of waiting businessmen when I arrived. The receptionist, a pasty young man with an irritable attitude, waved me into a seat with a sidelong "You'll be notified when you can go in." I took a seat on the other side of the room from the only two other people waiting. One was a positively ancient yet dignified old man who, I noticed, seemed rather proud of his spiffy white mustache, as he stroked the squared downward ends from time to time. The other was a younger man, wearing a large-brimmed hat tilted downwards at the front. It hid most of his face, but there was no way it could cover his shock of noticeable orange hair and goatee.

I turned my back on the two and flopped into a chair, stretching out my legs and pulling my hat over my face like the other guy as I prepared to wait. As I prepared myself for the "interrogation" I was about to conduct, Yukinoshita's voice echoed in my head. " _It seems some punishment is in order for whoever did this…"_ My jaws tightened on the cigar in my mouth. She had better be careful with who she was giving that punishment. Criminals like these, they were slippery snakes. They were certainly hard to detect, as they rarely left any kind of vindicating paper trail, and the only reason I could tell was because I recognized the pattern from past experience.

Oh yes, they made the money vanish. And then they vanished themselves, leaving only the wrath of the higher-ups on the wrong people. A frame-up, hanging on the wall, swinging with the picture of the innocent victim.

No trace of the real crooks. No trace of justice.

That was just how it went.

How it _always_ went.

My cigar broke in my mouth.

I opened my eyes and lifted my hat slightly, looking in surprise at the severed halves. Shrugging nonchalantly, I got up to throw it away in the ashtray by the door. I was wondering if I'd have time for another while I was waiting when the door banged open in front of me. Barely had I thrown the broken halves away when I myself was thrown, straight into the young woman with flaxen hair who was coming out the door.

Of course, I reacted appropriately. I ignored her. But as I turned around to sit back down in my chair, she accosted me.

"Hey, you should apologize when you run into people, you knoooooooow."

I stopped and quirked my eyebrow. For some reason, that irritating ending phrase sounded really overused.

"To be fair," I said without turning around, "you ran into me. Not the other way around."

"Eeeeh? But, like, wasn't I just going out the door normally?" She asked in a confused voice. Then she laughed, "Teehee, I guess all my friends were right. They always say I'm an airhead, you know. Sorry about that!" I could almost feel the little star popping off the end of her spiel. Wow, what a vixen. I turned around with a sigh.

"Fine, have it your way. Apologies, apologies. Now scram." I expected a sugary, flowery, syrupy comeback like the last one, but instead she looked a bit surprised. I wasn't much taller than her - after all, I stoop a lot - but she seemed to shrink back a little bit as she looked up at my face. I could almost feel the 'eew…' vibes emanating from her. I facepalmed mentally. Everybody has the same reaction, don't they. They all see the dead-fish eyes and they just think whatever they want. Well, I can't say that it was unexpected. I turned around in exasperation and went back to my seat to wait in peace.

Really, though.

Some people.

.

As it turned out, I ended up lighting another cigar while I was waiting, which I slid from my mouth with two fingers as I introduced myself to the financial manager of the subsidiary company. A large man with white hair and glasses, his grey business suit was pressed to impeccable perfection.

"Good evening. My name is Zaimokuza Yoshoteru. For what purpose did you request to meet with me?" His speaking style was formal, but rather than a gentlemanly tone, his flat and flaccid voice bore the exhaustion of time and the apathy of reality. Here was a man who knew the real world, I thought to myself. Here was a man who had been _beaten_ by the real world. And at first glance, his listless manner didn't seem like he would be one who stood to profit extensively from the money laundering operation that I was pursuing.

But then again, appearances can hide a lot.

"The name's Hachiman. Hikigaya Hachiman."

And so I questioned Mr. Zaimokuza. Of course, I didn't ask him directly about the money laundering operation - even if he wasn't complicit, I didn't want him to accidentally tip off the real criminals. Instead, I played the part I was supposed to play: a legal advisor, going in for a routine checkup on a subsidiary's financial status.

In the past, I had never really been much of one for acting. Plays, dramas, and the theater had never seemed particularly engaging to me, and famous movie star and idol hype was for either popular, fashionable people, or fanatics. But I had long known that real-world acting was far more complex than anything onstage. Typical social interactions tended to necessitate as much acting as any sort of high school drama performance. Yes, a performance, that's what it was - one where the audience must be kept unaware that everything is staged. White lies; jovial smiles; lighthearted, conscientious laughs that are phonier than Alexander Graham Caulfield.

In the past, I had never much liked the acting, the stage drama, the capricious show of the social landscape. I had always much preferred detached observation. And so, I accepted my position alone; I thrived on it. I made myself a nice little space at the bottom of the social ladder, isolated from all the muss and fuss.

In the past, though, I had sometimes put my indifferent attitude aside. I had always told myself that it would never be for long, merely a momentary act to reach out and do what only I could. I knew acts, I knew facades. I could see through them, explain them, figure out what made them tick. And so, I could imitate them, twist the act to suit my own purposes. It was this skill that I was using now, trying to trip up Mr. Zaimokuza to see if he was in on the criminal operation. Yes, in the past, I wanted to never submit to the cowardice of change. And the part of me that could manipulate social situations, that part of me had never changed.

Yet, in the past, I'd always had someone to try to peel me off the bottom, hadn't I? Someone to encourage me when nobody else could, when nobody else would. Somebody to give me a reason to act, to work, to make an effort. Even when I always told her to bug off, to not bother herself with my life. Even when she had her own life to worry about. Heh. Her own life indeed.

Well…

That was in the past.

…

That's the second cigar tonight, isn't it?

.

I chucked the broken half in the trash and put the lit end back in my mouth as I proceeded out of Mr. Zaimokuza Yoshoteru's office. My staged discussion with the financial manager had yielded results. My original guesses about the man's integrity weren't far off: he was not directly involved in the money laundering racket. Certainly, he knew that something not quite right was going on - whenever I mentioned balancing assets and adding things up, a single sweat drop rolled down his broad forehead. But I could tell that he considered himself to be powerless to stop the criminals. Rather than desire not to get caught, I discovered behind his thick glasses a fear of the criminals themselves. Undoubtedly, then, the perpetrators held some kind of sway over him, some type of power. They had to be above him in the power structure - his superior. It was a case of the classic "never question your superior" corporate slave mantra kicking in. At the end of it all, he just wanted to stay out of it, and felt like ignoring it would keep him safe.

Perhaps I pitied him. Perhaps I empathized with this man. But to be sure, I knew how he felt. That desire to stay isolated, uninvolved, and avoid trouble by passing under the radar was a feeling I knew all too well. Detatched. Neutral. Objective. Disconnected.

But I also knew all too well how that had turned out for me.

For her.

And so, my last words before leaving his office were words of caution.

"Mr. Zaimokuza, you had better be careful. No matter how impartial you try to be, no one is ever uninvolved." I looked down slightly, hand on the doorknob. "Nobody is ever innocent."

.

"There are three types of people in the world. There are the people that selflessly care about others, the people that selfishly care only about themselves, and the people that care about nothing at all."

The bartender, Kawasaki Saki, looked up from the glass that she was absentmindedly polishing across the counter from me and chuckled dryly.

"Oh great, another monologue."

I sipped from my own glass and looked down at the documents that I was studying.

"I'm serious, though. Think about it. There's those altruistic types who are just naturally nice and think about other people at the same time as or before themselves. Pretty rare, though. Like finding a sapphire in your breakfast." I chuckled and puffed the cigar that I had been holding a couple inches from my mouth. "Then there's most people. The selfish type. They want what they want, and they'll do what they want to get it. Of course, with some people, that's a good thing. But others...not so much." I peered down at the documents in my hand - information about the head of the subsidiary company that I'd been checking out. One Sagami Minami. "Looks like she's one of those people."

Kawasaki, the bartender at "The Kicked Bucket," was an old acquaintance of mine. I was also a fairly regular patron at the establishment. So it wasn't much of a surprise to her when I came for information about people who had influence over Mr. Zaimokuza of the suspected subsidiary. As the saying goes, the bartender sees and hears but rarely tells. She had furnished me with a couple of papers about the head of that company, which I was examining in the low, dingy lighting of the bar while a solitary, soft saxophone serenaded in the background.

"So how bout the third type?" Kawasaki interrupted my musings. "Whadda bout the people who don't care about anything?"

I looked up, surprised she had even been listening, then gave a short chortle. "You're looking at one."

"Hmph. Don't gimme that," she said with a snort. "Everybody's gotta care about something. Even you." She paused a moment, recollecting. "Say, what ever happened to that sis of-"

A pause. A glare.

The glint of dead-fish eyes from beneath a wide-brimmed hat.

Kawasaki looked at me. "See. You do care."

I sighed in resignation. "Sometimes I try not to. But…" I paused again. "She's…"

Kawasaki just raised an eyebrow. I fiddled with the brim of my hat, my drink left on the bar.

"You know, I have a hypothesis. That the best way to have true freedom is to not have anything tying you down." I took a drag on my cigar. "The freest people are the ones who are most alone. The ones that don't care. About anything."

"But… what kinda life is that?" Kawasaki asked.

"I don't know," I answered with a sigh. "But if I don't care, then I guess it doesn't matter, now does it?"

The only sounds were the squeak of Kawasaki's cleaning rag, the murmur of the saxophone, and the muffled clatter of other patrons in the background.

"Sometimes, memories just won't leave us be, huh."

I looked up fast at Kawasaki's words, but she had already walked away to clean a different glass. Listening to the saxophonist wind and spiral through a distant melody, I wondered at how right she was.

I sipped my drink, alone.

.

The sidewalks were still wet underneath the pale orange glow of the street lamps as I walked back to my office. Home sweet home, eh. Well, that's basically what it was. Above the offices in that building, there were numerous small apartments; one of them was mine. It was a little three-room number, with a kitchen, a bathroom, and one bedroom.

There used to be two.

It was so late that it was practically morning as I splashed through the puddles on the sidewalk. I usually stayed out late, if I went out at all, but this was later than usual for me. Typically, I would have been perfectly at ease walking alone through the pitch-black morning hours, but tonight I felt that same feeling of being watched that I had felt earlier. Or perhaps it was not exactly that, but rather a premonition of danger. I cautiously reached into the inner pocket of my long overcoat and fingered a polished black handle. Just in case.

I turned the corner at the end of the block, heading home. Looking across the street, I noticed that I was passing by the Yukinoshita building again. I considered stopping in to relay what information I had learned about the money siphoners, but decided against it. Miss Yukino had probably finished up for the night by now, and the offices were undoubtedly closed anyway.

But I had hardly taken a step when I felt an uneasy chill down my spine. I froze, my grip tightening on the handle in my pocket, my index finger sliding into a familiar grasp. I couldn't say why, but I felt that somehow, someone nearby was about to… about to… About to what, exactly? I stood stock still, with only my head swiveling about as I glanced around. My gaze darted from the empty sidewalk behind me, to the black sedan in front of the Yukinoshita building, to the darkened windows of the bookstore next to me. My long gray coat flapped slightly in the night wind, the only sound in the empty street, except for a nearby drainpipe, which slowly dripped rainwater from an awning onto the sidewalk.

 _Drip._

 _Drip._

 _Drip._

 _Taptaptaptaptap._

I looked up fast at the sound of running shoes echoing on the pavement, emanating from across the street. As I whirled around, I caught the briefest flash of orange hair curling up from under a dark, wide-brimmed hat. And then it was gone, like a mole's nose into the earth, as the door of the black sedan slammed and it peeled away from the curb, rubber screeching on the wet street. With the splash of tires and the roar of acceleration, the car vanished around the corner. I was left standing alone on the street. Just a lone black shadow, watching in the night.

Hmm, I thought.

That car had no license plate.

.

 **To be continued.**


	3. Chapter 3

_"Onii-chan, now that your cute imouto's by your side, let's work hard together! Kyaah, that must've been so many points!"_

 _"Onii-chan, don't worry, we'll get through this. After all, gomii-chan was always good at staying isolated from other people… Although I must say that I never thought that was a good thing before now… Hahaha, I bet that was worth a ton of points! Heeheehee..."_

 _"Onii-chan, I believe in you… You know, you always came through when things looked dark before. You're a really reliable onii-chan, even if you do have those eyes… Kyaah, so many points, right?"_

 _"Onii-chan, it's okay. You can't always beat the world. Sometimes, bad things just happen to us, and we can't control them, you know? Don't worry, Onii-chan… We may be apart, but I'll still be here for you. Heehee… That must've been some good Komachi points…"_

 ***SLAM***

I snapped my head up in alarm and scanned my surroundings, my right hand going towards my pocket by instinct. Then I relaxed again. I was in my office. I was in my chair. There was nobody in sight. The feelings of panic and desperation, those weren't real. Nothing to worry about.

It was just a dream.

Evidently, I had fallen asleep in my desk chair as I was listening to the morning news. My feet were still on my desk, but my hat had slipped sideways off my head as I slept and my cigar had gone out. Smoking while sleeping, huh. Dangerous, that. I re-lit the cigar with a smirk.

Late morning sunlight streamed through my half-closed blinds as I reached up to turn off the radio on my desk. Some richer folk out there had televisions instead, but I couldn't afford one. They were too new and too expensive. I had never liked to spend unnecessarily on luxuries, either. Couldn't. Not anymore.

But as I reached to flip the radio's power switch, I was surprised by a name that the radio spat out suddenly, as if in self-defense. I sat back abruptly, listening. For all of their fame and fortune, they weren't covered that often by media outlets. What could have happened to put the Yukinoshitas on the news?

 _"This morning, an unbelievable crime was committed against the famed Yukinoshita family. Mrs. Yukinoshita, the elder matriarch of the company and the current CEO's mother, was found dead in her penthouse at the top of the Yukinoshita company building. Police investigations have revealed this to be a murder, as Mrs. Yukinoshita was killed by a gunshot wound to the head."_

My newly lit cigar slipped from my opened mouth, and I winced and shook my hand as it fell on my wrist. Miss Yukinoshita's mother, murdered? I couldn't say why, but something felt suspicious. Perhaps it was the timing; I had just gotten involved with the Yukinoshitas, and suddenly such a high-profile murder occurred. I wondered how both of the Yukinoshita sisters were holding up.

 _"...and now a word with Mr. Hayama Hayato, current president of Hayama Law Partners, Inc., and future fianceé to the young Miss Yukino."_

I looked up yet again in surprise. Well, I supposed that it wasn't entirely uncommon for business marriages to occur among the extremely upper-class. But somehow, I felt that this arranged marriage thing was some kind of reeeeally overused plot device.

 _"'I would just like to say that I'm extremely sorry for the Yukinoshitas' loss, and I would like to express my sympathy in what is undoubtedly a trying emotional time for the whole family.'"_

I raised an eyebrow at that. This Hayama Hayato fella was a curious one. To be able to turn a scripted-as-hell response like that into something that sounded like an emotional outpouring of heartfelt empathy? Either this guy was a veritable adept at public faces and appearances, or he was a really nice guy.

I wanted to meet him.

But first, I decided, I had better pay another visit to Miss Yukinoshita Yukino.

.

When I got to the Yukinoshita building, I was only slightly surprised to find the enormous crowd. It stretched from inside the building all the way out into the street, down nearly half a block. It was certainly to be expected, as one of the most dramatic murders in recent times had just occurred there, but that didn't stop me from wanting to turn around and go back home. Crowds always gave me a little bit of an irritated headache. But I sucked it up, lit a cigar, and focused on the flavors of the tobacco as I maneuvered my way through the seething mass of humanity.

Bloody rubberneckers.

Making my way up the dimly lit back staircase to escape from the crowds on the way to the CEO's office, I wondered how long I'd have to wait to get an appointment with Miss Yukino. Seeing as how all attention was focused on the relations of the murdered aristocrat, I considered that I might not even be able to meet with her. Especially not in enough privacy to let her know anything about the other criminals in the company: Those money launderers.

But what I wasn't expecting was to have no wait at all. As I passed the 50th floor, I noticed the sounds of low voices conversing in a hushed manner. And ascending just two more flights, I discovered the owners of those voices.

"Why, if it isn't the woman of the hour herself."

"Gah!"

"EYAIHH!"

"So, introduce me, will you?" I said, nodding towards Miss Yukino's conversation partner, an attractive young woman with a shapely chest and a peach-bun hairdo.

"Excuse me, but who are YOU again?" Miss Yukino asked sharply, standing up from the black stair step that she was sitting on and taking charge of the situation.

"Whoa, there," I said, backing up a pace with my hands in the air. "Don't remember me? We met yesterday." I took off my hat and doffed it. "Hikigaya Hachiman."

"Ah, yes," she said, retreating a pace in the dim stairwell lighting. "I could never forget those horrific eyes."

"The eyes are the only thing you remember…" I said slightly wearily.

"Of course not. My memory is impeccable. Your eyes were simply the thing I tried hardest to forget."

"So now you remember best the things you try to forget!? What's with this contradictory memory…"

"It only seems contradictory to those who do not fully understand."

"Oh, I understand all right. You came out here to escape from all the well-wishers and story-fishers, didn't you."

"Hmm, a rather astute observation. Perhaps those eyes aren't as dead as they look."

"No, I assure you, they are quite that dead."

Our conversation was interrupted by a burst of laughter from the other occupant of the stairwell. The peach-bun girl looked like she'd been holding it in, and had finally had to let it out.

"Yukinon…hahaha… What're you doing… Hahahaha!"

"You never did introduce me to this….person, miss Yukino," I pointed out.

"Hey! Don't call me a person! My name's Yuigahama Yui! I'm Yukinon's -"

"She's my secretary," Yukinoshita interrupted.

"And her friend!" The 'endowed' girl, whose name was evidently Yuigahama, continued.

"But aren't you one, though?" I questioned.

"What?"

"You said 'don't call me a person.' But aren't you a person?"

"Well, yes, but, um, I wasn't, er, it's just…"

"Don't push yourself," I smirked.

"Heeeey… So mean… Yukinon, why's this mean person here?"

"I'm not sure. He hasn't said it himself, has he?" She said rather sharply, turning toward me with a glare.

"Hey, it's important business." I glanced at Yuigahama. "Important business."

"It's okay," Yukinoshita assured me. "I'd trust Yuigahama with my life."

"Awww… Yukinon…" Yuigahama jumped up and hugged her suddenly, in a rather squishy embrace. But I couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

There were all kinds of people out there. There were simple people, nice people, kind people. But there were also the type of people who would just as soon love you as eat you. There were the kinds of people that ruthlessly took whatever they wanted, just because they could, because they had that power. There were the type of people who would pin their crime on an innocent young woman, just because they didn't want to get caught themselves.

There were all kinds of people out there.

But a lot of them were bad.

Trusting someone with your life was a dubious choice at best and a fatal one at worst. But I didn't tell either Yukinoshita or Yuigahama that. I didn't need to.

"You may trust her with your life, miss Yukinoshita, but I don't trust her with mine."

She stared at me, like an icy queen whose servants told her that they were cold. A look of disbelief and mounting anger. But I wasn't going to back down. This case may have been important to miss Yukinoshita, but it was also important to me.

Perhaps there weren't many things I cared about anymore.

But revenge is a dish best served cold.

...

"Er… It's okay, actually. I kinda get what Mr. Hikki means."

Say what now? Mister _Hikki_? What the hell kind of a nickname is that? And what does this airhead mean?

"It's like… I know, you don't know me that well and, if this is, like, important to you…" She stumbled over her words, childlike, bumbling. Technically, the sentence she was speaking made no sense. But somehow, I understood that she understood me.

"Anyway, Yukinon, you can talk to Mr. Hikki about the important stuff. I'll just get back to work upstairs. There's probably a lot to do now anyway…" She made a face. "Anyway, seeya Yukinon!" She smiled so brightly that I had to squint in the dim stairwell, and then she was gone.

Hmm.

We may have just met, but I had to say that I trusted her a little more now.

.

Once Yuigahama left, I explained everything I had learned so far about who was siphoning money from the company. Upon hearing that I suspected Sagami Minami, though, Yukinoshita looked a little bit surprised.

"If what you're saying is true, then Sagami must be the one behind the whole operation. But from what I know about her, she doesn't seem like the type to mastermind something like this."

"That's what Kawasaki said too."

"Kawasaki?"

"Ah, yeah, my source."

"Oh really."

I looked at her, deadpan. She deadpanned back. I shook my head.

"Anyway, so Kawasaki said that 'Basically, she's a bitch, and I never really liked her.'" I chuckled, and so did Yukinoshita. "But she said that 'she doesn't seem like the conniving type. She's just not smart enough. Couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel.'"

"Where does she get these expressions…" Yukinoshita wondered absentmindedly.

"Shush. Anyway, she said, 'She's got the social skills to slink her way into positions of authority. Plus she's got a wealthy family name backing her up. But she's just not really the subtle type, not really the sort to come up with a plan to steal from her own company. She's not that good of a planner or a leader.'"

"Hmmm," Yukinoshita muttered. "That's a pretty accurate evaluation, as far as I can tell. I don't really know her that well... I've got plenty enough to worry about up here…" she muttered, under her breath. "But anyway, what's your plan?"

"Here's the thing. People can hide a lot behind their public image, or behind their facade. So it's entirely possible that Miss Sagami Minami is actually very clever and deceptive, enough to mastermind this whole operation." I paused a moment, considering. "But if she's not actually scheme-creating material, then the idea either came from a subordinate who's in on the plan, or the entire thing was cooked up by somebody who's more powerful than Sagami and is controlling her for their own ends. Either way, if Sagami's not the one who came up with the operation, going after her wouldn't be effective. It'd be like cutting off a weed stem without pulling up the roots." I clenched my fist. "And then it could happen again."

"So what are you suggesting?" Yukinoshita questioned.

"I think we need to determine if Sagami is clever enough to get water out of an aquarium or not."

"And just how will we do that?"

I chuckled slightly. "Allow me to amend my earlier statement. I think _I_ need to determine if Sagami is clever or not."

.

Yukinoshita and I parted ways on the landing, her going upstairs to face the throngs of businesspeople and media reporters, myself heading back down the darkened stairs and out into the street. It was late afternoon when I got outside, so I stopped in a nearby bar for a bite to eat while I considered my next move.

I knew that when I went to meet with Sagami, I would have to put her on the spot somehow in order to trip her up and make her reveal just how clever she really was, to see what kind of person she really was. But I just didn't know how I should do that. I knew I shouldn't mention anything related to the company's finances, or else she could get suspicious. But I wasn't sure how to draw out her real personality.

I brooded on it as I sipped my drink, a cup of coffee. It made me think of MAX coffee. Oh, sweet MAX. The fond reminiscence. It had been a while since I last had a MAX coffee. Almost two years, in fact. That's right.

Almost two years since they'd stopped making them.

Well, it was fine.

I drank my coffee black now.

.

I departed the bar, no closer to a solution for Sagami but quite a bit less hungry. I also had a new destination in mind: the offices of Hayama Law Partners Inc.. I recalled my earlier desire to visit him, just to see what kind of person he was. Plus, the radio broadcast that morning had mentioned that his law firm was the firm employed by the Yukinoshita company, so I figured that I could talk to him under the guise of a Yukinoshita company consultant. Really, I just wanted to get an idea of the man who was going to be marrying _that_ Yukinoshita Yukino.

Come to think of it, maybe I should have brought it up in my conversation with her earlier. Well, whatever. Too late now.

The late afternoon sunlight slanted down lazily across the dispersed crowds of slow-moving pedestrians along the sidewalks. Cars and building windows flashed and sparkled yellow as I walked towards the offices of Hayama Hayato and company. The building itself sat across the street from a bar called "They Live By Night" and a parking garage. Not as tall as the Yukinoshita building, these offices were instead much wider. But that didn't change the implacable aura of expensive, high-class aristocracy. Bloody elites.

The president of the company's office was, of course, on one of the upper floors, so I rode the elevator up and strolled down the hall to the correct room. The secretary was so busy that for a few moments the young woman didn't notice that I had arrived, and instead continued hard at work, her familiar-looking flaxen hair bobbing as she moved. Eventually, she noticed my arrival, and swiveled to face me with a drawn-out, very familiar-sounding "Sooooooooorry~~~ I was a little bit busy, teehee…"

Then I saw her face. And she saw mine.

"Oh, it's you," we both said. Then she made a face.

"You knoooow, you still haven't apologized from running into me."

"No, I actually did, don't you remember?"

"Oh, yeah… But that was, like, a terrible apology, y'knoooow…"

"No, I was completely and totally 100% sincere," I said flatly. She was activating a certain set of instincts that had been dormant for a long time, and I didn't want to deal with them. I didn't want to deal with the memories. So I cut the conversation. "Can you just put me down for an appointment to Mr. Hayama, please."

"Wow, so grumpy," she muttered. "Sure, take a seat." I turned to go sit down and light a cigar, but just as I started to relax into a chair, she called me again. "Actually, he's just finished with his previous appointment, so you can go in now."

"Geez, just when I sit down…" I muttered as I stood up and pulled open the door, a little irritated now.

And I nearly ran smack dab into the tall man standing just inside the door. I quickly registered a large, muscular frame and a certain orange goatee as I jerked back, muttering a quick "S'cuse me." The man simply reached up to the dark, wide-brimmed hat resting atop his head of orange hair, and tipped it, accompanied with a flash of teeth that might've, once upon a time, been a cheerful smile. He spoke, in an overly friendly voice that could only be described as _sleazy_ , "Ah, sorry man… S'cuse me too, yeah?" And then he was gone, leaving me to shrug and try to remember why he looked sort of familiar.

But then I registered the other person in the room. Sitting behind a tall desk, in front of a window with the blinds half-pulled, his blond hair glowing in the afternoon sunlight, sat the young president of Hayama Law Partners Inc.. The first thing that I noticed was not his impressive good looks, nor was it the expensive suit he wore. It was instead the blinding flash of teeth that he displayed: a thousand-watt smile, or perhaps a thousand-volt smile. A thousand-ampere smile?...no, nevermind. But it was with this smile, and a voice coated with the oxymoronic lacquer called "Genuine interest" that he asked me, "Why don't you take a seat?"

I just stood there, inspecting him with a critical eye. His tone of voice? Polite as all get-out. His smile? Friendly, cheerful, _and_ understanding. His mannerisms? Measured, precise, and exact. His clothes were impeccable. Even the cigarette that he held in his mouth seemed to not even drop ash from the tip.

All perfect.

Too perfect.

It was as if someone had made him out of plastic.

"Excuse me, sir, would you like to take a seat? I don't believe you've mentioned what you've come for," he said pleasantly, with a small, polite gesture towards the seat across the desk from him.

"Actually, I don't think I'll need to. I think I've seen what I wanted to see," I finished in a low voice, turning about abruptly and making as though to leave.

Hayato didn't even flinch. "Well, sir, if that's what you insist on, then I won't stop you. But you must have come here for some purpose, correct?"

"Man, he's unflappable," I muttered to myself as I swung back around and plopped into the chair.

"Greetings," I said to him. "The name's Hikigaya, Hikigaya Hachiman. I'm actually here on behalf of the Yukinoshita company -" Hayato's perfect brows almost twitched at the name "- and I was just stopping in with you, as you're the head of the legal consultant company, correct?"

"Ah, right. You are correct, we are the official legal consultants for the Yukinoshita company. What is the nature of your business today?"

"Well, I'm actually just an independent-party legal advisor that's been recently hired in addition by the Yukinoshitas, so I figured I'd just stop in and greet you, the head of the main consultant company."

"Very kind of you to make a house call of sorts," Hayato said jovially. But I was slightly confused. For the past minutes, I had been intently examining him for signs of cracks in the facade that I knew he was wearing like a suit of medieval armor. And yet, nothing beyond the first mention of the Yukinoshitas even vaguely surprised him. It was as if he was a marble statue - a talking, moving one, yes, but somehow he didn't betray any emotion whatsoever other than interest and concern.

Nobody was that perfect. I knew there was something underneath that smooth wax facade, but I couldn't seem to find an edge.

 _What's behind that mask of yours?_

"Excuse me?"

Seriously. Did I just say that out loud? Friggin clichés. "Oh, nothing."

"Are you sure it was nothing?" I looked closely at his face. His eyebrows were closer together - a bead of sweat - his chin crinkled slightly - a slight curve of the mouth…

He was betraying emotion.

Hmm.

I thought back to my earlier conversation with Yukinoshita and her secretary, Yuigahama. The airheaded bimbo who somehow understood that trust isn't to be given away so easily. And yet, she was able to trust Yukinoshita about me, that I wasn't some sort of dangerous person, despite what my eyes undoubtedly made me look like.

I recalled giving her some of my trust after our conversation was over. She had earned it.

Perhaps I could learn from her. Maybe I could make…some sort of "down payment" on trust. Give a little, receive a little.

Perhaps I could try trusting this Hayato fellow a little.

"Actually, I was wondering what's behind that mask of yours."

"What… do you mean by that?" He asked, struggling to keep the plastic from slipping off. But I could see it sliding. The wax was cracking at the edges.

"Your persona. Your polite, considerate image. It's pretty damn impenetrable. I can't see anything of your real personality. And... why, you know it's there, too, don't you?"

He blinked at me in complete and utter astonishment, not knowing what to say. Then he slowly cracked a smile, a melancholy half-grin different from his earlier portable sun. He began to chuckle slightly, in an amused but somehow self-deprecating manner.

"My, my… mister Hikitani, was it?" He closed his eyes and looked down at his desk. "You are one of the sharpest people I've ever met, and I've met a lot." He opened his eyes again, staring at his desk with his shoulders hunched over behind him. The sunlight coming through the window behind him threw his face into shadow. "But to answer your question, I can't say that even I know who the real me is anymore. Being an up-and-coming president of a company isn't all fun and games, you know. There's so many people you have to please, so many compromises you have to make. For any little thing you want, you've got to sacrifice so much. So, so much…" He trailed off with a heavy sigh, laden with meaning. "And soon enough, the life of responsibility molds you into this." He sighed, gesturing downwards at himself with a disgusted hand. But then he seemed to suddenly catch himself and straighten up, as if he was putting the plastic smile back on. "Well, as you can tell, there's not a lot of people that I can talk to about this," he said with a shit-eating grin. "You'll have to forgive me for unnecessarily expounding upon you. I must admit, I was caught off guard by your perceptiveness."

"Hey, don't worry about me," I said absentmindedly. "Just your average joe bureaucrat, working in a world that dulls sharp blades and breaks dull ones."

I thought for a moment. Underneath his perfect exterior, his crowd-pleasing nice guy act, mister Hayama Hayato just seemed like a tired man whose passions were few and whose regrets were many. Perhaps, though we worked and lived worlds apart, perhaps we weren't so different at the end of it all. Just another burnt-out candle in a cold world.

Perhaps, I could trust him with something of mine. Well, he was a lawyer too, so he was legally bound to ensure my privacy. But I was in need of a bit of help; I could use some legal advice. Maybe this random company president could give me a hand.

"Not a word of this escapes this room, you hear?"

"Oh, sure. What's this all of a sudden?"

"My real reason for stopping by," I lied. "You are legally required to keep the contents of this discussion confidential, right?"

"Um, yes, of course. Standard procedure in accordance with provision 16 of the Legal Consultation Security act-"

"Okay, good. Because this is important. It concerns your fianceé Yukino's company, after all."

I ignored his slight flinch at the mention of the arranged marriage, and proceeded to tell him the details about the money-siphoning operation plaguing the Yukinoshita company. Since he was the president of the official legal advisors for the company, I figured he deserved to be aware of the problem. It wasn't an insignificant threat, either, as I had discovered when tracing some missing funds. Since the subsidiary whose manager was the ringleader was a rather major sub-company, its influence extended throughout the entire Yukinoshita corporation. Thus, I realized that they were actually able to steal from various locations throughout the entire company, which undoubtedly led to lots of hassle and paperwork. Being that the Hayama Law offices had to deal with much of the company's internal affairs, I figured that perhaps mister Hayato could lend a hand, or at least an observing eye, to be on the lookout for further transgressions.

After further instructing Hayato that the details - no, the existence of this operation was to kept extremely secret, I left his office as he assured me, businesslike, that we would need to meet again in the future to further discuss matters. On the way out, I stopped by the secretary's desk to light a cigar. After that long of a discussion, I needed a peaceful smoke.

Hmm.

That gave me an idea.

I tapped the shoulder of the still-working secretary, checking for a nameplate on the desk. _Iroha, Isshiki_ , it read.

"Miss Isshiki."

"Yeeeesss~~...oh it's just you…" she said, abruptly shifting from a cutesy greeting to a low mutter.

"What, expecting somebody interesting?"

"I thought you were mister Hayato…"

"Oh, so you weren't expecting somebody interesting."

"Hey! Don't talk bad about Mister Hayato! He's really kind, and a really good manager, and plus his eyes don't look like yours," she finished in a slightly disgusted tone.

"Well anyway, can I use your office phone?" I asked, pointing.

"Huh? Why?"

"So that I can use it to fly to the moon, obviously," I said, deadpan.

"It's kinda gross that I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not," she commented in a disgusted manner.

"Anyway, I just wanted to call somebody."

"Sure, whatever," she said with a sigh, handing me the receiver. "Don't get too many Hikigermas on it."

"Wow, never heard that one before."

"I repeat my earlier comment."

.

 **To be continued.**

 **Actually, just a quick A/N for IamZero, who's publishing "Loner in the midst of blood," a similar story.**

 **I just wanted to say that I have stolen no things from you, and I assure you that my backstory and stuff was not intentionally similar to yours. I had come up with it far before your chapter 2 was published, so it's just kinda accidentally happened to be similar. Cri cri.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I sighed heavily. I knew it was time to come clean, or else I couldn't call my business finished. And I never left business unfinished. It was unprofessional.**

 **"I admit it." I began, a guilty clam slowly divulging the terrible pearl within. "I took your- no, I stole your work. It wasn't noble, honorable, or just. But I did it because, well... I thought you would appreciate the mention."**

 **"Mention? MENTION!? The mention…. Is the only thing… You didn't give me!" He fumed, erupting fire and lava like Hell and Iceland had a baby. How incestuous.**

 **But it was true. I had forgotten to grant this respectable fellow the dignity deserving of his work. It had simply slipped my mind, like a fat man on a greased banana peel.**

 **"But I right my wrongs. I will not let this go unsaid any longer." He nodded in satisfaction at my determined words.**

 **Yes, I stole Croniklerx's one-liner. Shame to my famiry.**

.

After my phone call, I left the office building and headed out. It was getting to be evening, and the sun descended in the sky next to me as I walked along the road by the waterfront. I tipped my hat forward, brim shielding my eyes, and stuck my hands in the pockets of my coat as I proceeded towards the meeting place that I had arranged. As my footsteps clapped rhythmically and evenly along the concrete, the sun gradually slipped lower and sank into the sea, as if the Titanic had burst into flames before it went down. Soon, the light from the sunset disappeared entirely, leaching the color from the world and leaving only the barest glow of red from the embers at the end of my cigar.

My meeting with her was roughly scheduled for a bit after sundown, so I figured that I might be a few ticks later than expected. But then again, her sense of delicacy was as fickle as the East Wind fresh out of bipolar meds. So she probably wouldn't even notice, or care. As likely as not, she'd be more interested in what I'd been doing with myself for all these years. I was a bit curious about how she'd been doing, too, but the answer to the specific question I had in mind was probably a foregone conclusion.

The dusk was as gray as an overworked chimney sweep in a black-and-white film when I reached our meeting place. It was a small overlook just off the highway, terrace railings jutting out above the seacoast. Waves crashed quietly ashore below, like the muffled sound of a distant battle, as I waited for my contact to show up. I shook my head in bemusement: it seemed that I had nothing to worry about in regards to being late.

The minutes patiently burned away, first glowing red and orange, and then turning to gray ash and smoke that rose and fell from the end of my cigar. Sometimes, the past swirled lazily upwards and wisped away like dreams in the wind; other times, it crumbled and fell to the ground, painful, burnt-out memories to grind under your heel. But either way, it was gone from you forever.

Perhaps that was the worst part.

"Cigarette?"

"Smoking."

She had roared up in the sort of classy, souped-up hot rod that I knew she fancied, parked with the splutter of a powerful engine dying, and walked over and leaned against the railing, her long white coat flapping in the sea wind as she gazed over the water. Pulling out a matchbook and a pack of cigs, she had dutifully offered me a light, regardless of the fact that I was clearly already holding a cigar. Shrugging at my rebuttal, she turned back and with a flick of her wrist, expertly lit a match for herself. Then she puffed out and together, we watched our trails of smoke intertwine in the breeze, tangling like loops of yarn in the paws of a very mischievous cat.

"So how's things, kid?"

"Hmm, they've been worse."

"This was definitely a surprise, you know. Contacting me out of the blue after all these years. You never tried before, at least not since you left the force."

"Well, things have been stirring up a bit recently. I figured that we could have a bit of a talk, just like old times. Sensei."

"You know you don't have to call me that anymore. I'm not your teacher anymore. I'm no longer your superior."

"Eh, old habits die hard. And, I guess I could still say that you're my mentor."

A small smile cracked the world-weary face of Shizuka Hiratsuka, and she leaned over and gave me a slight punch in the shoulder, just like she always used to do.

"So what'd you call me here for tonight, kid? Not just to butter me up like an egg roll for breakfast, I presume."

"No, that's not it," I said, leaning my back against the railing next to her and gazing up at the gray night sky. "Well, I figured that if I was going to ask anyone, it may as well be you. Basically, I've got a situation."

"Let's hear it."

"Well, let's just say that I've got a chance to do things right this time around. You feel me?"

"Oh, Hikigaya…" she breathed sadly. "You're not still chasing that notion of revenge for what happened, are you?"

"I've pinpointed a likely culprit, and the possible mastermind of the operation," I continued, bowling her over. "I'm not going to let them slip away this time. So I've been taking extreme precautions to not warn them away, and I don't intend to confront them until I've got solid proof." I paused. "Trouble is, I don't have any of that, other than one person's name and character profile." I looked at Sensei. "Basically, it comes down to a question of how should I trip them up when I meet with them?"

She just rubbed her forehead, sighing with regret. "You always were a stubborn one, even though you always denied anything of the sort. So you want to make this mastermind character incriminate themselves without an interrogation, huh? This goes a little bit beyond what they teach you in the force, you know." She looked sideways at me. "Who's the suspect, and who's the unfortunate client?"

"The suspect's name is Sagami Minami. The company she works for, and is stealing from, is the Yukinoshita corporation."

Hiratsuka-sensei gave a low, appreciative whistle. "Working for some famous people there, aren't we."

"I may appear to be under their employ, but the Yukinoshitas aren't in charge of me. I won't become somebody's lackey just like that."

She shook her head in resignation. "That part of you hasn't changed either, kid," she said, breathing out a sigh through her nose. "Well, I should think the answer you're looking for is actually pretty obvious."

"Oh?"

"I'd think that you would know this strategy pretty well, after all. You want to trip them up, make them expose their true personalities and motivations? Sometimes it's not enough to just know they're putting up a front. You have to make them drop their guard, put down the mask of amiability for just a little while." Her cigarette puffed its last embers of smoke and went out, and she flicked the ashen remains to the ground. "What's the best way to get people to let down their guard? You of all people should know this one the best."

I looked up at the sky. A few stars had emerged from the clouds, glowing dimly and faintly amongst the gray. "You know, Sensei, maybe we should do this more often."

"You know I've got a job."

"So do I. And, well, is it safe to assume that the only thing you've got is a job?"

She whirled, her fists twitching like an Old West gunslinger reaching for his holster. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

I laughed slightly, stepping away from the railing and beginning to walk away. "Nothing, nothing…"

"Don't get too full of yourself, kid. You don't seem to have anybody, either."

"Well, that's just how I like it. No bothers here."

She shook her head and began to walk to her car as I continued to walk away. Neither of us looked at the other. We just looked straight in front of us, our gazes unwaveringly pointed in different directions as we departed.

"See you, kid."

"See you."

And with a roar like a Tommy gun going full-auto, she sped away along the highway, leaving me in the dust on the nighttime sidewalk. I watched her brake lights disappear into the distance, wondering at how life really never seems to change. It had been three years, and yet she was still as stoically wise as ever. People like her weren't easy to find anymore.

Walking alone along the highway near the sea, it was easy to feel that you were the only person in the world. Accompanied solely by the darkness of night and the embers of my cigar, I could imagine that I was the only living human traversing the planet. The occasional flash of lights from a car seemed merely the breeze blowing in the branches of a forest, as irrelevant and inanimate as the rocks underfoot. Perhaps some considered solitude lonely, but for me it was relaxing, peaceful.

At least, that's how it was until one of those cars screeched to a halt upon passing me. I stood, brows wrinkled in confusion, as the back door of the classy-looking sedan opened and out hopped a surprising figure.

"Yahallo!"

Haruno Yukinoshita, the one who had dragged me into all of this.

.

"So how have things been going with Yukino-chan, hmm?"

Haruno walked alongside me, having dismissed her chauffeur after determining that "it'd be more interesting to walk with Mr. Hikigaya, ne?" While I simply treaded along, my cigar in my mouth and my steps even, Haruno jumped around and frolicked as we walked, like a squirrel who had discovered an acorn farm. Evidently, she wanted to ask me how her personal request was coming along, and decided that my peaceful, uninterrupted walk home was much less important.

"I can't say much. Or rather, there isn't much to say. Your sister is basically under a lot of pressure as the new CEO, as far as I can tell."

Most businesspeople, residing in appointed positions, don't feel an urgent need to do an exemplary job. All they need to do, in their mind, is to remain in their established position, putting forth a comfortably low amount of effort. They don't particularly need to move up, and they don't have much of a chance of losing their current job. Therefore, they don't need to put much effort into their work, and they simply coast.

However, Yukinoshita Yukino was the new head of an extremely large corporation, and her expectations were high. She seemed to be not only very competitive, but also a perfectionist. Therefore, feeling the need to prove herself in her new position, she was putting in an extraordinary amount of work at her job.

"Additionally, she's got some intra-company issues that are causing her a bit of an unnecessary hassle. That, I believe, is creating more paperwork and keeping her tied up in her office more. Of course, now she also has to deal with the death of her mother." I turned and looked at Haruno in curiosity. " _Your_ mother."

Haruno paused in her antics, one leg in mid-skip, and looked at me. Then her face seemed to harden slightly. "Of course I miss my mother. But having to put up with all the formalities and obligatory sympathy is reeeeeally boring and dull, y'know…" Then her voice lowered as she muttered, "but of course, that's _exactly_ what _she_ would have found the most engaging."

Our walk had finally reached the downtown area of Chiba. As we neared our destination, I wondered what kind of relation Haruno had had with her mother. Yukino too, what sort of relationship had they had? Haruno didn't sound incredibly fond of her.

"I see your face, I know what you're thinking," Haruno said. "I didn't hate my mother. But she was really overbearing to both Yukino and I. I used to be the heiress-to-be for the company, you know. It was stifling, but I learned to live with it, more or less. I had faces, masks, to put on all the time. Everything was always strictly business, and it was all so easy to see through. So boring." She paused, several strides ahead of me, and turned away, looking up at the paltry stars. "Then one time, my mother finally gave me what I wanted. Freedom, at long last. And in turn, she gave the rights to the company to Yukino-chan." She turned back to me, a shining smile on her face, a thousand amperes of bright flashing teeth. "And now I get to watch Yukino-chan be all grown-up and take responsibility, how exciting!"

I just looked at her. I didn't know what to think, or what to say. My only thought was that her smile sure reminded me someone else's.

Haruno kept talking anyway, like it was all a trivial discussion. "So you know, Yukino-chan's arranged marriage was mostly put forth by mother dearest. In fact, that used to be part of my hat as the heiress, but then it just transferred over to Yukino when she became the new CEO instead. But business is business, you know? Hey, hey, you've been awfully quiet, mister Hikigaya. Cat got your tongue?"

"Maybe." I paused, then continued as we stepped out together onto a white-striped crosswalk across a dark, empty street. "Seems like you don't need me to tell you much about your sister when you already know so much about her."

"Oh, but you overestimate me, Mr. Hikigaya. Yukino-chan may be sweet and naive, but she can be so cute when she's stubborn." Haruno laughed, but it sounded like an old soda: flat, unexcited, and out of fizz. "I want you to find out how Yukino-chan feels about-"

But she was interrupted by an abrupt screech, like a parakeet getting a tooth pulled.

It all happened so fast.

One moment, I was simply walking along the crosswalk in an empty street, talking with the beautiful woman who had hired my services.

The next moment-

The wail of tires.

The glare of headlights.

A desperate yell.

A snap decision.

A flying tackle.

The next moment, I lay on the cold, gritty concrete, Haruno crouching in shock before me.

The last thing I remembered, before everything faded to black, was the shiny black emptiness of a certain rectangle on a rear bumper. Then the car screeched around a corner and disappeared.

.

 **To be continued.**

 **.**

 **Hey guys, ImaNukeYourFace here, and holy hell, that was a short chapter. But it was an important one. From this point on, get ready for some badass action my dudes ;)**

 **If any of you are really familiar with film noir, you might have recognized Shizuka and 8man's first exchange as a quote from one of the most iconic film noir scenes of all time. The movie is Out Of The Past, and of course the reference I'm talking about is the infamous "'Cigarette?' 'Smoking.'" scene.**

 **Anyway, so for the guest reviewer who mentioned Qualidea Code, I have in fact read frog-kun's awesome translation of that novel. Reading it, I could definitely feel the Watari Wataru vibes xD, and I personally think that Watari and Sagara Sou did something ridiculous like alternating chapters. Kind of like when a bunch of people write a group story by each adding their own new sentence to the stuff that was already written. So like Watari wrote the first chapter, and then Sagara wrote the second and made up his own stuff when he did so, and then Watari wrote the third chapter, and so on. It's a ridiculous enough story to believe that something like that happened lol. But that's just my little conspiracy theory.**

 **Also, for those of you Icelandic readers (if there are any), don't be put off by the intro. Please. I seriously have nothing against Iceland. It was just about the volcanoes.**

 **As an author, the only way that I know you readers read and hopefully appreciated my work is, of course, faves, follows, and reviews. So don't hesitate to leave one ;)**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading and cya next chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**She perched on the stool at the end of the bar, like a sparkling bird-of-paradise among a flock of dirty brown sparrows. Her long legs spilled over the seat like a waterfall, and her dress emphasized her roller-coaster-curves body. She was the ideal of perfection, like an untouchable painting, and I knew that getting her approval would be more coincidence than anything else.**

 **But still, I played my saxophone like I was an impassioned suitor serenading his love. From the corner where I sat, the hopeful yet melancholy strains of my music threaded absentmindedly through the venue. Some sounds were sweet, some were sad; some were good, others bad. But when the final, quavering note of the solo died away, the listening bar patrons gave me a light, passive round of applause.**

 **Including her.**

 **And as I relaxed, taking a sip of my drink next to me, she turned her stool lazily and said to me,**

 **"Hey, how do you do that?"**

 **I raised my eyebrows. I hadn't been expecting this much feedback - nor this detailed. "How do I play that music? Well, it's improvisation."**

 **She looked at me, her head cocked like a jackdaw who'd found a shiny golden ring. "So you're saying… You make that all up?"**

 **I shrugged. "It's a bit more complicated than that. It's true that every note I play was chosen by me on the spur of the moment. But the truth is, I don't make it up from scratch. I follow rules and patterns to make the music sound good."**

 **"Eeeh…"**

 **"And a lot of times, I simply take ideas from other sources. Sometimes it's a phrase that another player made up that I used. Other times, it's a jingle or a 'lick' that came from somewhere else in the world."**

 **She frowned slightly. "Sounds like you steal a lot of ideas and call them your own."**

 **I shook my head. "When you're being creative, I don't call it stealing. I call it 'being inspired.' Ultimately, I do take a lot of ideas that I've encountered elsewhere, but I use them in my own way. Yes, I do steal a lot of ideas… But so does everyone else. Being inspired by others is the essence of improvisation."**

 **"That's pretty philosophical from someone who works off of dimes and quarters," she smirked slyly as she gestured to the case at my feet.**

 **"Some people get lots of reward for doing what I do. Others, they only get small potatoes. In the end, it just depends on who they're playing for - who they're catering towards," I said, with probably not just a little jealousy grazing the edge of my voice.**

 **"Well, mister, I hope you're happy that I at least liked your work," she said with a coy grin, dropping a few quarters into the case.**

 **"I play what I want to play, but at the same time, know this: I'm also doing this for you," I said with a nod.**

 **"Hrmm? My, my… smooth operator, there," she smirked as I picked my saxophone back up. "By the way, I didn't catch your name?"**

 **"You can call me The Author. How about you?"**

 **"Why, of course, mister Author. I'm The Reader."**

 **.**

 **I always did like analogies.**

.

 _ **BANG! BANG!**_

 _"This court has hereby determined that the verdict of the defendant, Hikigaya Komachi, is guilty, on charges of felony embezzlement, fraud, and larceny."_

 _"It isn't true, your honor! Komachi didn't do anything wrong! She couldn't have! She was framed by the real criminals!"_

 _"Onii-chan…"_

 _ **BANG! BANG!**_

 _"Order!"_

 _"..."_

 _"Now. Son, you've got to look at it this way. WAS she framed by someone else, as you're suggesting? Or perhaps was your sister just careless in committing her crimes, and now you, her brother, is trying to deny it?"_

 _"No! I just know that Komachi NEVER did anything like stealing from her employers! It had to be someone else!"_

 _"Do you have any proof, son? All the evidence points to miss Hikigaya here. Do you have any evidence to back your argument up?"_

 _"..."_

 _"Mhm. Continuing with the sentence, miss Hikigaya Komachi shall be punished with ten years in…"_

 _._

 _"You know I tried. I tried so hard to find out who really did it. But all their records and everything was already gone…"_

 _"I know, kid. It's vexing, isn't it."_

 _"I just… I don't know what to do. I don't know what I can do. Nothing, I guess."_

 _"I wish I could give you some good news, kid. I really do. But your outburst in the courtroom was apparently 'unbecoming of an officer of the law.'"_

 _"Seriously…"_

 _"The higher-ups wanted to fire you, but I put in a good word and pulled a few strings. They won't fire you, but you'll be demoted, and they're gonna dock your pay."_

 _*Sigh*... "At this point, I almost don't care."_

 _"..."_

 _"You know, I'm really grateful for everything you've done, Sensei. But… I've decided. I quit the police force."_

 _"Hikigaya!"_

 _"I can't work in a system that lets something like that happen to an innocent young woman like Komachi. I just can't. I couldn't live with myself."_

 _"..."_

 _"I'm going solo. You know I always preferred to work alone, after all. I guess I'll just be doing that all the time now. You've been a good teacher, Hiratsuka-sensei, but this is goodbye. I'll clean out my office today."_

 _"Y'know…"_

 _"Mm?"_

 _"I'll miss you, kid."_

 _"Yeah… I'll… miss you too."_

 _._

 _"Don't worry, Onii-chan… We may be apart, but I'll still be here for you. Heehee… That must've been some good Komachi points…"_

 _._

 _A black pistol sits, silent. It is small. It is lethal. It is patient._

 _An orange sunset, gleaming with fiery color over a still ocean. A glaring welding torch, brought to bear on the blue steel of the waves._

 _The pistol clicks in the silence. The trigger curves back. The hammer flies up._

 _A sputtering ember, living yet almost dead, at the end of an ashen cigarette. A faint spark of glowing orange, the only color in the rest of the monochrome snapshot._

 _The hammer snaps down on the firing cap. The pistol roars, and the barrel bucks upwards and begins its slow slide backwards._

 _An orange tuft of hair, peeking out from under a wide-brimmed hat; the only flash of color in the darkness of the night. The orange triangle of a goatee upon a singularly suspicious-sounding man._

 _The gun spits fire. Flames pour forth from the muzzle. Bright, blinding, fiery._

 _Orange._

 _And then the color is gone._

 _It sinks beneath the waves, burns to gray ash, disperses into the air with the clouds of gunsmoke and powder._

 _It tucks itself away, down into a black sedan._

.

Danger.

I shot upwards, instinctively reaching for my jacket pocket.

I scanned my surroundings frantically, searching for threats, a way of escape, an answer to the sudden feeling of alarm.

What was going on?

Where was I?

The room I was in had white walls. There were sterile-looking machines near the bed. I was on the bed. I was dressed in all white. The smell of antiseptic.

My jacket pocket - more importantly, its contents - were not on my person.

I began to panic. What was I doing here? Who was I again? What was going on? Where was my g-

Creak…

"Ah, good morning, mister Hikigaya."

I looked up, my mind still speeding at a million miles an hour. A woman stood in the doorway, with a white doctor's coat and wearing green eyes. No, wait, she had green eyes and was wearing the coat. I convinced my brain to slow down enough to start to make sense of the situation.

I appeared to be in a hospital, that much was fairly obvious. The blonde-haired, white-coated woman in the doorway was obviously an M.D.. Why would I be here, though? I tried to think back to the last thing I remembered.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Confused…"

"Ah, that's understandable. We had to put you on some nerve gas for the operation."

"Wait. What operation?"

"You might not remember it at the moment, but you were apparently hit by a car, mister Hikigaya," the blonde doctor said. "You miraculously - and I do mean miraculously - survived. You somehow managed to dodge fast enough that you missed getting any life-threatening organs majorly damaged. And then a man who was passing by found you in the street, unconscious, next to a woman who was also hit."

"How is she?" I asked immediately.

"Oh, she was just a bit dazed is all. The guy said that she claimed she didn't even need to come in to the hospital. I think she really should've come in anyway, if she was grazed by a car, but the guy didn't bring her in. Well, I guess I can't really fault him though. After all, he did bring you here to save your life."

"Who was this guy?" I asked. It seemed I owed him. Significantly.

"He didn't leave a name or anything. I think he had silver hair."

"Really? That's it? Anything else?"

"God, calm down. He was smoking a cigarette, that's all I remember. But that's really not important, you know. You should be more concerned about your own health."

"I'm fine, though… Aren't I?"

"Well… More or less."

I felt a growing feeling of apprehension in my chest. "I thought you said I didn't damage anything major."

"Nothing life-threatening. But you'll be needing this now." She reached outside the door and pulled inside an item that I never thought I'd need until I was old and gray.

Well, older and grayer.

It was a cane.

"Your right leg was critically injured by the car. We did an operation to patch it up, but the long and short of it is that you'll find it rather difficult to walk without a cane. Running isn't out of the question, but I'd recommend against it. I mean, you'll be able to stand up without it. It's simply to help you move around easier with your gimp leg."

I felt my head spin. I needed a cane to get around now? I remembered all the training I had done at the police force, all the conditioning to keep in shape. I still did it after I left, to keep my physical edge in case I ever needed it. Perhaps it came in handy at the car crash. But how was I going to do it now?

.

Being laid up in a hospital was like taking a math test directly after pulling an all-nighter: exhausting, yet duller than a thousand-year-old arrowhead made out of talc. Of course, the nurses were apt to call it "observation" rather than "Chinese water torture," but I knew when I was being hoodwinked. So in order to liven up the pointless hours, I spent some time getting used to having a cane. It wasn't particularly difficult, and I was glad to see that I could still move around relatively well - I didn't want to get old before my time. But every time I heard the end tapping on the floor as I walked, or felt the knobby grip under my hand, I thought about how I would be stuck with this for the rest of my life: forever confined to a life of imprisonment by a wooden stick.

My dreams were similarly optimistic. I couldn't remember much of them, but I knew exactly what they were about: whenever I woke up, I always found myself with Komachi's name on my lips.

It had been six years since Komachi had died. No, since she was killed. Murdered in prison. The woman who had done it had been on death row, and so a few days after Komachi's funeral, the one who had killed her died as well. I didn't know what to think at the time: should I be happy that Komachi's killer received justice? Or should I be disappointed that I couldn't exact any of the terrible vengeance that I wanted to?

But even if it had been someone else who had dealt the killing blow, I knew in my heart that it might have never happened. If only I had just been a little bit more...

Komachi and I had known about the existence of the embezzlement operation at her work, through rumors and small hints. Yet, I had treated the problem like I always did - I thought that if she didn't get mixed up in it, it would simply go away. Staying out of bothers was my motto in life, and that was my advice to Komachi when she came to me in worry. And thus, through my inaction, she fell victim to the workings of the criminal operation.

I could have tried to unmask the criminals beforehand - I was a police officer, was I not? But I had no idea who the culprits were, no real method to prove their guilt, and no real way to convince the bureaucracy of the force to investigate the matter. So I just accepted my powerlessness, and Komachi did too, and we lived our lives in the vain hope that we would simply be too insignificant to worry about.

But we failed. No, I failed. Even though I tried everything to fix my mistake, it was too late. I had wanted to be able to at least try and reduce Komachi's sentence by proving that the real criminals were guilty, but now that she was dead, there was no point. I gave up that hopeless quest for the justice of vengeance.

In the end, I just felt empty. Komachi was gone.

My cute imouto was gone.

What could possibly matter anymore?

But sitting in the hospital room like a pile of rocks at a derelict construction site, I often found myself doing a lot of nothing. So I decided to use the time as best as I could: I planned some things, plotted others, and pondered a bit as well. Specifically, I wondered what Haruno had wanted me to ask Yukino about. Right before the accident, I remembered her words: "I want you to find out how Yukino feels about-" But about what, exactly? It was unfortunate that she got interrupted by a car, I thought wryly. I'd have to ask her when we met again. Perhaps Yukino could put me in contact with her, since they were sisters and all.

And then, in my dreams, there was the strange notion of… orange. I couldn't shake it. It was like I was leaving somewhere that I didn't intend to return to, but with a nagging sensation that I forgot something important there. The answer felt so close, and yet it was so far away.

And as for Sagami, well, I needed a plan. Sensei had hinted me at the way to find out what I needed to know, but I still needed everything to fall into place. But now, as an invalid in the hospital, I had plenty of time to make a scheme.

And so I did.

.

I escaped from the prison-like confines of the hospital's overbearing care a few days later. According to my irritated yet worried doctor, I should have stayed at least twice as long to give my leg more time to heal. But I shrugged off her oppressive mothering: I had always been a quick healer, mostly because I needed to be. I had never had the luxury to sit around and nurse wounds before, after all, and I wasn't going to now. I was just moving along, as always.

My first stop out of the hospital that afternoon was to visit "The Kicked Bucket." For a woman who spent most of her time in the workplace, Kawasaki sure got around pretty well; if I ever needed a specialist contact, I knew I could find one through her.

"-and so, I think I'll need it as soon as possible. A rush job, if they don't mind. This cane that I have now just won't work for me."

"Hmph. That guy doesn't like to be rushed, you know. But I'll convey your order."

"Here's the down payment, and I'll give the rest upon delivery," I said, slapping some bills down on the counter. "Your fee is included."

"You know I don't charge anything for stuff like this. And to make an invalid pay for ordering a new cane…" she chuckled a bit. "Sorry, sorry, just getting used to your new third leg."

"I don't like to owe anyone anything," I replied gruffly. "And I'm still getting used to this new third leg too."

"I heard you saved somebody from getting hit, too. Somebody rather important." She leaned in with a pressuring look, like a toucan trying to crack the information out of a nut.

"Hmm, I guess you could say that. Haruno Yukinoshita is a pretty powerful lady, after all."

Nothing ever really ruffled Kawasaki, and this information didn't either - at least, not on the surface. But I knew her well enough to know that the slight twitch in her left eyebrow was equivalent to her yelling out in shock and surprise.

"Haruno Yukinoshita, huh. She's quite a character, and I've heard all kinds of things about her from all kinds of people. Some people love her, think she's an angel of perfection. Some people hate her, say she's the devil incarnate," she recalled.

I sipped my drink and smiled slightly. "They're probably both right. After all, demons don't come from hell beneath us. They come from the sky."

Kawasaki just raised her eyebrow. "Well, getting crippled because you were saving a celeb, I guess there are worse trades."

"I'm not a cripple, I just have a new accessory," I snorted. "Anyway, I didn't come here for you to make fun of my injury. I want information about anyone who works in Sagami Minami's office that really doesn't like her."

"Oh, setting a plan in motion, are we?" She asked, her green eyes glittering with catlike curiosity.

"Indeed I am, but as you know, this is on the down-low," I said with a pointed look at her.

"Hey, I'm a professional at 'on the down-low,'" she said. "You want your info or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Spit it out," I said as I pulled out a small notebook and pen from the folds of my coat.

"Hmm, so someone in the office who doesn't like Sagami, huh? There's that Achako Pretadori fella, nah, he got promoted, what about miss Aya Mizero… No, she retired… oh yeah. Kyon Icklerks, that's your guy."

I scribbled down his name and the information about where to find him that Kawasaki gave me, then pulled a box out of my pocket and tossed it across the bar top.

"Here's your payment, as per usual. I got you their special, it was on sale."

Kawasaki picked up the box of cigars and sniffed them experimentally. "Unexpectedly decent, coming from you. Not too bad this time," she smirked. "Now go find your man, he's not just gonna sit around waiting for you."

.

As it turned out, Mr. Kyon Icklerks _had_ actually been sitting around until I showed up, slouching into his cubicle in the subsidiary company's building. As it turned out, his little square office was right outside the target destination: the office of Sagami Minami. I silently nodded in appreciation of Kawasaki's skills - she always knew the little details that brought it all together.

A slender, sinewy man, Mr. Icklerks sized me up as I entered his office the way a swordfish must look at other sea creatures - was I small enough to hunt, or was I going to hunt him?

"What can I do to help you, sir?" He began in a friendly but guarded manner.

"Eh, it's pretty easy, actually. I'm sure this seems suspiciously abrupt, but I'm not gonna drag you into anything messy." I peered at him with my fish-eyed glare from under the brim of my hat. "I just need a little favor."

"A favor, eh? I take it this is pretty under-the-table."

I reached into the inside pocket of my coat and fanned out some notes. "If you please."

"Who's this coming from, anyway? I like to keep things on the up-and-up, if you don't mind," he added with a slight edge to his voice.

"Just someone who's as much of a fan of miss manager in there as you are," I said, jerking the handle of my cane in the direction of Sagami's office.

He just raised his eyebrows.

"You want it on the up-and-up? How about up-and-up and out of this subsidiary's offices?" I tossed the metaphorical dice, gambling on the man's dislike of Sagami to lend credit to my story. But his expression still remained impassive, his poker face neither objecting nor agreeing, like the facial expression of a brick wall.

I shrugged in defeat. It was time for my final strategy.

"Well, I guess you're a busy man… You've got a lot of work to do, and you wouldn't want your boss after you," I chuckled. "So I suppose I'll just find someone else to do it instead. Shame I couldn't give you any of this," I said, fanning the bills out once more as I turned away. It was time to leave, and this would be his last chance.

"I never said I was opposed to helping," he remarked.

I stopped midstride, peering at him out of the corner of my eye. "Well then. I'll take that as an 'I'm in.'"

Behind me, I saw him shrug slightly. But he didn't deny it.

"In that case, here's what I want you to do."

.

 **To be continued.**

 **.**

 **Hi guys, ImaNuke here again... It's been a while, hasn't it? Summer is the season of laziness, though... I couldn't even motivate myself to write fan fiction...**

 **Well, rest assured that the next chapter will be coming soon - I'm actually almost halfway through it already - and it's time for some 8man spy skills. Wouldn't be a film noir without some undercover work. Right? I think so?**

 **See if you can get the references on my terribly-named OCs. And some of you probably facepalmed at the BatmanvSuperman reference. (I know I would.)**

 **And that analogy at the top is... Well... I always did like analogies. There's a lot of stuff in there if you look.**

 **Anyway.**

 **As always, thanks for reading, and I'll cya next chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

I left my office at mid-morning the following day. In the left pocket of my coat, I carried an extra load in addition to the usual contents of my right pocket. I would be needing the left one this morning, but hopefully not the right one.

Hopefully.

I arrived at my destination, the office building I had visited last night, about an hour before lunch break was scheduled. Perfect timing. But rather than head up to the upper floors where the important bureaucrats were working, I instead turned toward the lower floors - more specifically, the basement.

Why the basement?

Because that's where the janitor's offices were.

I had worked as a company janitor for a bit, before I entered the police force, so I was familiar with the way things worked down there, and also up above. The job of the janitor was arguably among the most crucial of all the people in the building. Without them, the offices wouldn't be able to function smoothly, as people would be constantly interrupted from their work by the small inconveniences that the janitor takes care of.

And yet, the job of janitor was still looked down upon as the lowest stratum of occupation by the office workers in the building. Some felt pity for the poor sap who had to work in the basement all the time. Others simply felt superior in the way that a king feels superior over his court jester. Janitors, by and large, did not naturally garner a lot of respect.

But this also meant that janitors were able to move about as they pleased, unacknowledged - and therefore unseen. They had a natural stealth ability to fade into the background, a technique which I had long perfected in my own life. And people didn't think much of janitors. They were the lowest level of worker in the office building, like mechanical servants, and their intelligence couldn't be that great if they were stuck working in the basement, right? So people didn't bother to hide things from them…. especially very arrogant people.

The best part of being a janitor was that they knew the way things worked - both buildings and people.

I personally respected janitors very much. So it was with regret that I reached into my left pocket, pulled out the tranquilizer gun hidden in there, and shot the subsidiary building's janitor with it. Of course, I knew that normally, there would be more than one janitor working such a large office building. But it was an hour before lunch break, and I remembered that during this time, all the other janitors went for lunch and left one behind to hold down the fort.

Well, not like this guy would be able to hold down any forts in this state, I thought wryly as I hauled his unconscious body into a chair one-handed, the other gripping the cane.

Next, I pulled off my long trench coat and stuffed it into a janitor's cart, revealing a pair of denim overalls typical of the trade underneath it. I took off my hat and stuffed it down my shirt, and hid my cane inside the cart as well, trading it for a broom. Finally, with a couple pats to smooth down my hair, my transformation was complete: I now looked like a hunch-backed, paunchy old janitor.

It was time to get to work.

.

The assignment I had given the man Icklerks the night before really _was_ simple - that was no lie. All he had to do was spill some coffee inside the office of Sagami Minami about a half an hour before lunch. Fortunately, he neither asked questions nor failed to deliver. He seemed relatively pleased to be given an opportunity to screw with his boss, which gave me a good idea of the type of person I could expect to meet when I was called up to take care of a "spill in the manager's office."

Leaning on the cart for support, I wheeled hunch-backed out of the service elevator, past a janitor's closet, down a few hallways, and into the office of my prime suspect. Pushing open the door, I immediately noticed a coffee spill that would've impressed BP soaking through papers and carpet. Did he cart a whole vat in here and just dump it everywhere or something? Looking at it, I began to feel a slight notion of regret for what I had asked Kyon to do… this was going to take way too much effort for me to clean up.

The manager herself stood next to her desk, complaining loudly to her secretary. My first impression of Sagami Minami was that of a parrot - she was loud, brightly colored, and somewhat obnoxious. The poor secretary, meanwhile, looked like a hazelnut being cracked under the pressure of her boss's rant. Noticing that I had arrived, however, she gestured my direction with a relieved "Miss Minami, the janitor's here."

The miss in question immediately turned her beady gaze on me and squawked, "What took you so long to get up here? How am I supposed to do my job when the janitor can't even do his?"

I gritted my teeth and held back the whiplike comeback that sprang to my lips, instead putting forth a contrite "Sorry, ma'am," and pulling out some cleaning rags. Normally I would've viciously lashed someone like her for that in verbal combat, but I needed to stick to the plan. I had to evaluate her true personality, and the best way to do that was to play the role of a submissive, dumb janitor.

"You're right, how can anyone expect you to work in these conditions?" I buttered up to her, gesturing to the mess. Time for the leading questions.

Dismissing her secretary with a wave, she turned to me with a triumphantly arrogant laugh. "I know, right? That imbecile out there that spilled this has, like, no appreciation for how much he's disturbing my work."

"Nobody appreciates how much you do, ma'am."

"Totally! They're all just moronic regular old cubicle-turtles, and they have the nerve to mess with me?"

"You're definitely the boss, miss."

She smirked in satisfaction. "You think so? Yeah, I think so too."

"Nobody would ever be able to tell you what to do."

She laughed arrogantly again. "Of course not."

But as I cleaned up the coffee mess, she didn't realize how closely I was observing her every expression. At first glance, she seemed completely confident and self-assured. But looking closely, it all became clear: Her smirk was strained, her arrogant laugh slightly tense. There was a miniscule pause before she agreed with my last statement, and her response sounded more unsure than she was letting on.

Sagami Minami was definitely the arrogant type, and she lived to be buttered up to. She was certainly able to establish social dominance and keep it. Yet she was lacking a lot of the things necessary to be a true mastermind - specifically, the "mind" part. She completely missed the sly dig I made - "Nobody appreciates how much you do" could easily be applied to the manner in which she never appreciated what other people did for her.

And most importantly, she paused at my comment that "Nobody could ever tell her what to do." Perhaps it was just a hunch, an extraordinarily thin suspicion of mine. But it seemed to me that someone else was telling miss Minami what to do… specifically, with regards to the embezzlement operation. She was almost certainly involved - the threat from her would undoubtedly scare the man Zaimokuza sufficiently to explain his actions, or lack therof. Plus, she seemed like the type of person to resort to -

My thoughts were interrupted suddenly when I felt a slight nudge on my shoulder. I looked up, but nobody was there, so I shrugged and turned back to my cleaning. Must've been a fly or something, or I imagined it.

But as I carefully wiped around the edge of a stack of papers on Sagami's desk, I noticed something. I peered harder. I read it once, then twice, then again - and my cleaning rag almost stopped in my hand.

My mind sped up to a million miles an hour.

These documents… My search had yielded unexpectedly manifold results.

It was time to get serious.

But first, I had to finish my cleaning.

.

My impromptu mission was simple - I needed to get the documents out of the office without Sagami realizing they were gone.

I could take them by force, of course - steal them and run out. I had been training a bit, and so long as I could get to my cane, I felt that even with my limp I could probably beat any of the surprised office workers.

But that was too risky, too noticeable and, frankly, too showy for my taste. Plus, I didn't have my new cane in yet.

So I opted to go with the undercover approach - stay in character, don't raise suspicion, and simply walk out, unsuspected.

And so, about three seconds after I realized what the documents were, my plan was formed.

"Er, excuse me, Sagami-sama…"

"Yes? What?" She asked irritably, one palm over the telephone receiver in her hand.

"It seems some of the papers were irreparably damaged by the spill…"

"Argh! I don't have time for this! Fix it, janitor!"

"Um, yes ma'am, I'll just try to copy them ma'am, that should fix them…"

"Good! Now go do it!" She said, dismissing me with a wave as she turned back to the telephone.

"Ah, yes ma'am…"

I grit my teeth. It was all for the mission, I told myself. Soon, it would all be worth it. Soon.

Disguising the important documents among the other coffee-stained ones was easy, and slipping them into my coat instead of shredding them was easier still. Sleight of hand was a practiced matter, certainly, but it benefited in no small part from my useful amounts of natural skill.

And so, I carted the sheets of clean white paper back to the office with no one the wiser. After finishing up the cleaning, with some obligatory bitching from the lovely miss Sagami - "Can't you work any faster? It's just coffee!" - it was time for me to make my exit.

"Here you go, ma'am, all cleaned up."  
"Finally… jeez, could you have worked any slower?"

"I humbly apologize, ma'am. I'll just be going now."  
"...wait a second."

Shit.

I froze in apprehension. Had she realized that I had taken the documents? No, I had made a replacement copy as well and put that on her desk and besides, she couldn't have possibly been observant enough to notice something like me taking a couple of papers…

"...what was the guy's name that spilled this coffee again?"

For an instant, I felt a little bit bad for involving that Icklerks fellow in my business. I hoped that he wouldn't take any sort of punishment for my rashness.

"Sorry, ma'am, I don't remember."

Sorry to him as well, I thought. But this is the least I can do for now.

And so I left, pushing that grey plastic janitor's cart out the door and down the hall, down the elevator, and back where it belonged.

I traded the cart for my cane, pulled out my paunch from under my shirt and set my hat back atop my head, and took out my coat and put it on with a flap.

And then, documents tucked securely into my inner pockets, I strolled out of the building and vanished into the crowd.

.

 **To be continued.**

.

 **Ello, ImaNuke here again, and damn it's been a long time. Like 2 months or something. I vaguely remember promising that this chapter would come out quickly...?**

 **Disclaimer: The faster that a fanfiction author says a chapter will come out, the longer you should expect to wait for it.**

 **Anyway, I have the plot planned out for the next chapter, but filling in the words is gonna be kind of a chore...Motivation, come to me...**

 **I will say this, though: after having written and submitted over 50,000 words on this website, writing 500 words for college apps is a piece of cake. xD**

 **As always, thanks for reading, and cya next time.**


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